Growing up, my idea of medicine was prompted by a reluctant swallow of an alarmingly pink-red liquid, magically changing the inner workings of my body as a young girl. This is how I was taught to feel better. I did not know the future of my body and mind, especially being able to have this experience to further learn about myself and the landscapes we are immersed in. My battle with my health has been a years-long journey, one that has also given me the opportunity to define medicine in alternative ways.
Before this course, I felt I was trying to understand my chronic anxiety, fueled by a severe iron deficiency, having to infuse what my body already should provide for me. Now that I am here, while I still may not know the answer to why, I have a new confidence in the way I make myself feel better. With a strained relationship to Western approaches to treating mental health issues, I sought out the most natural form of medicine you may even find in your backyard: plants. Medicinal plants have historically played a significant role in healing across several cultures around the world. Traditional ailments and remedies were, and are, passed down generationally, with native plants and trees as a part of your family. I find that we often favor native plants for aesthetic or utilitarian purposes, rather than their ability to gift us the medicinal properties others have observed for thousands of years.
Throughout this course, we have been particularly interested in the traditional ecological knowledge of the Blackfeet Nation, who share a deep relationship with the land and elements of nature. Reflecting on an interview with Ninna Piiksii, Dr. Mike Bruised Head, he refers to stabilizing our psychological mentality through the observation of the buffalo, considered “good medicine.” Bringing back that original relationship is key to combining knowledge for the gift of feeling your own medicine across boundaries. In this way, I was able to reanalyze approaches, to consider a holistic and intrinsic perspective in the world I previously knew. Traveling from Missoula, Montana to Fernie, British Columbia, I have had the opportunity to encounter several native medicinal plants spanning across ecological landscapes. I find it incredibly special to be able to compare the medicinal plants that I use personally, and the newfound species on this course so far.
My learning process included a multitude of books and shared conversation about the nurturing energy these practices bring. On the days the nausea and vomiting is immobilizing, lavender and lemon balm in a tea or oil automatically calms my nervous system, like magic, bringing me comfort in a time I lose control of myself. The same can be said about St. John’s Wort flowers, a common weed found across North America. Thanking these plants for the stability they bring me is also how I am able to connect to place, with both feet on the ground, simply feeling appreciation for the life I am surrounded by. For the Blackfeet people, this process is beautifully natural.
Walking along the riverside in Alberta, I was struck by a flower, softly pink and fragrant. I knew that this was a friend, smiling and sharing my gratitude and excitement for this moment; a small Valerian plant had made its way from the subalpine meadows. The use of Valerian root, native to the Yukon region, eases physical pain and promotes sleep, while relieving the symptoms of anxiety and restless-leg syndrome. Further, by far, one of the most abundant plants I’ve seen backpacking through the Rockies, growing tenaciously from the widowmakers that have fallen behind, is fireweed. Fireweed, with poignant magenta flowers, appears first after fire, and the leaves are collected to be used in tea to aid in digestion and respiratory problems. Current research, according to Medicinal Herbs of Western Canada by Brenda Jones, describes that the plant may also be useful in treating benign prostatic hyperplasia and possibly prostate cancer—many plants have the ability to treat serious medical conditions.
The Blackfeet people knew of these properties before the rise of Western medicine, yet the destruction of land and indigenous culture have provided a sense of complacency and unknowing in our society today. Sharing these stories and experiences has also contributed to my healing journey, and this hands-on, immersive learning experience has opened my eyes to discovering different paradigms and definitions of medicine to take with me. In the end, acknowledging the history of medicinal plants and traditional ecological knowledge enables us to have a new space in our minds for respect and beauty, and soon enough, you may find that you feel better too.
